Private Terminal

"Mr Cogan, we've arrived." I heard, pulling me from a dreamless sleep. I woke with my head still swimming slightly from the booze and exertion, but otherwise no worse for wear. I glanced out the window, not sure what I was expecting to see. It was just another regional private airport with three terminals, all filled with expensive private jets like this one. I stretched my large form and stood. The stewardess I'd fucked was by the door smiling at the handful of passengers as we exited. I flashed her a smile as I passed. She returned it with the same plastic grin that all stewardesses give when you exit a plane. So much for a "lasting impression."

I made my way down the the steps and onto the tarmac. It was early morning and a bit chilly. We must have went North, but I had no idea where I actually was. I slung my bag over my shoulder, glanced around at the other passengers, and waited. I checked my cellphone and turned on location tracking. "Hmm. "Sablerock Private Air Field..." I saw. Never heard of it. I zoomed out to try and see if were in Wisconsin, or maybe North Dakota. My eyes went wide when I saw where we were.

"We're in fucking Maine!" I said in partial disbelief. I didn't think I'd slept that long. Sven, putting aside our little rivalry, tried to make small talk about football teams. We were all nervous, I suppose; and eager to get through this. I watched as a limo pulled up to one of the other jets and flash its lights. An old man with three bombshells exited the plane and made their way to the vehicle. I pursed my lips and nodded in approval. Whether I got this job or not, I was determined to make the most of this. I'd never ridden in a limo before.

"Gentlemen, please proceed to the terminal for check in and your escorts will show you to your shuttle." I heard from behind me. It was the blonde stewardess from before. I couldn't be too angry. We were the hired help, afterall; and not the clientelle. I glanced at the other guys and started to walk across the concrete to the unremarkable, smallish-for-an-airport building. We stood there, slightly dumbfounded. There was no one at the ticket counter and we were carrying our luggage so there was no reason to go to baggage.

"Okay, now where the fuck do we go?" I asked, annoyed. Sven tapped me on the shoulder and pointed.

"I got a hunch we follow them." he said, pointing to two latex clad women arriving from another terminal and walking like they knew where they were going. Right or not, we fell in behind them.

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It was then I realized this airport was supposed to be closed. There were no janitors, no security officers, no staff. The few people I did see where in suits, whether business, leather, or latex. A few of the women wore thick sunglasses, wide hats, and jackets with tall collars. Seems even here they were worried about discretion, unlike the pair we were following. They were chatting about diet plans and who was likely to win this season of Survivor as if it were entirely normal for two latex clad goddesses in ballet-heeled boots to have a casual stroll and catch up on gossip.

Finally, the one on the right in the wine-colored suit noticed us. She turned her head and smiled.

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"Better hurry along, little boys. Your shuttle is waiting at the South entrance." she said. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit disappointed when we parted ways. I looked at Sven and the others, and we wordlessly wondered just what the fuck we were doing here.

To my shock, we were greeted by a normal looking man in a pair of normal looking pants with a normal looking periwinkle blue shirt. He nodded as he saw Sven and I and opened the door for us. I thanked him, sat my bag down on the driver's side passenger seat in the back to better splay out. I was just getting comfortable when Sven nudged his way to sit beside me. I was annoyed, but the bench seat really was the only comfortable way for two ogres like us to ride. One of the smaller guys from the flight started to get in when the driver put his hand out.

"Mr Donnelly?" he asked, glancing down at a notecard. The man nodded, wondering why there was a delay. "I have certain instructions as to how you are to be greeted." he said to the confused man.

"Oh..okay..." the man said before the driver slapped him hard across the face and spat on. "Hey, what the fuck!" the man said before he was slapped again. The driver grabbed him by the throat and **** him into the vehicle. "I don't money this bad..." the man said, tenderly touching his cheek. The driver popped in with a Terminator 2 expression.

"Do I have to slap you again, worm?" he said sternly. The man blushed and shifted uncomfortably as he shook his head, indicating submission. Sven and I looked at each other and nodded. If this pencil neck tried that on us, he'd be a smear on the pavement. Certain gentlemen's agreements arise in troubling times. "Very well. Gentlemen, enjoy the ride." he said, closing the door.

Talk about an awkward and long ride. We drove for hours from the airport into the beautiful upstate New York countryside. Most people, myself included, tend to only think of New York City; but really a lot of the state resembles the highlands of Scotland more than Queens. The deep cut granite cliffs towered over us as we snaked our way deeper into the Alleghenys. Sven nodded off again and was snoring lowly when we exited the main drag for a well worn, winding mountain pass. I glanced at my cellphone and wasn't terribly shocked to see there was no reception.

We hugged a curve and suddenly were out of the cliffs. I didn't know what our altitude was, but it was high enough that the clouds and fog seemed to merge. "There it is, gentlemen. The Black Keep." our driver said. I craned my neck to look around, but saw only fog. I nudged Sven awake when I saw the sillouette start to form from the mists.

"Sven. We're here." I said. He glanced out the window, and his mouth fell open. I locked my eyes onto what looked like Dracula's weekend getaway.

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"We're not in Kan..." Sven said before I cut him off.

"Shut up." I said. I was in no mood for cliches. Unlike Sven, I was fully aware that we were going to be stuck here for as long as they wished to keep us, and there was nothing we could do about it.